Sajal Choudhary

I tell stories

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Tag: writer

Why I feel like an impostor at times


I think the problems began the day I paid for a domain, the blog was no longer going to be at “”, I had paid to have the “wordpress” removed. And that changed things. This was not just going to be an interest any more, I was a writer now. I even changed up my bio to reflect the change. I also cooked up a facebook page to reinforce the same. That page incidentally has around hundred likes now, not that I have any clue as to how the people who got there, got there..!

Yesterday, I read a post on Medium. I do not remember exactly what the whole of it was about, nor do I have a link to it, but I remember the end. In essence, the author said, that she’d love to see more bloggers out there, instead of all the essay-writing-writers that she inevitably does. She talked about the progression of the writer, from doing a couple of years of blogging, to an essay a week eventually. She rued the absence of good bloggers. Good, funny bloggers.

The “funny” part stayed. Why? Read on, I guess.

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What does it take to be a writer?


It can be pretty damning, to promise something, and not follow up on it, just a day later.

I did that, yesterday. But maybe, the promise was taking things a little too far.

That was yesterday though. Today, is a new day, and today, I want to talk about what being a writer is all about. Like always, something happened which has prompted this line of thought. And like always there’s a story.

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On Honesty, Part-II


Okay, so I messed up this weekend.

See, it was my birthday, and a couple of other things, which left me with little to no time to write something. I know that I should have planned ahead, but that’s not me. And that is bad, evidently, as I have absolutely zero idea of what to write about. Of course there’s the list of the ideas, but there’s a reason why they are in a list, and not on paper.

There was this post I read today, about Adele; about how she’s making people buy her music, instead of streaming it. In it, the writer talks about her being honest about who she is. I think that goes for all of us artists out here.

And I consider myself to be one!

Honesty is important for us. Honesty of both sorts.

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I’m back… again!

That's supposed to be a hand coming out of the ground. Yeah, I know!

That’s supposed to be a hand coming out of the ground. Yeah, I know!

If I decided to list out all the times I have taken a break from blogging, and started linking them out here, then in addition to it being a pretty long list, it would also be a fairly time-consuming and boring task. And time, and attention are too things, I am fairly a miser of, these days.

So, I’ll just begin.

The break, this time lasting close to a couple of months, was a well-intentioned one. This in stark contrast to all the times I’ve done this before. Times when I had been plain lazy. Lazy, yes, that’s a word I picked up today. A word that describes me, and has been describing me, quietly enough, for all my good years of college, and another one after that.


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The idea of being a writer

Wish I had clicked a picture!

Wish I had clicked a picture!

I am in love with the idea of being a writer, the image.

The idea of sitting on a table overlooking a giant window. The view outside the window keeps changing, but the table, and the chair, and the image of a writer, they stay.

As I said, I am in love with the idea of being a writer.

I am not entirely sure, who the first one was, but over time, there has been this one sentence, this statement, going around in my world. It says this:

Nobody pays for the idea. Ideas are abundant; actions, few.

Okay, I said it.

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